


What You Never Had

by f0rcryin0utl0ud



Category: Haven (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Tag, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-08 04:34:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21470137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/f0rcryin0utl0ud/pseuds/f0rcryin0utl0ud
Summary: “Actually, I took it for her. I took it for Jean. You know, I don't have any pictures of the first day I was in this world, so I wanted her to have it.”
Relationships: Duke Crocker/Nathan Wuornos
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	What You Never Had

**Author's Note:**

> It always bothered me that Audrey tells Duke she took the picture of Jean for Jean and not for Duke and that she then proceeds to not even give him a copy of the picture of his own daughter. This is a tag to that scene.

“Actually, I took it for her. I took it for Jean. You know, I don't have any pictures of the first day I was in this world, so I wanted her to have it.” Audrey tucked her phone back into her pocket and leaned back in her seat. 

“That's nice,” Duke gave a pained smile and tried not to let her know just how much it hurt that she hadn't taken the photo for him, or offered to even send him a picture of his own daughter – a daughter he would never get to hold, never get to meet. “You know, I think I'm just gonna go check on the food.”

Duke walked through the Gull toward the bar, swallowing past the painful lump in his throat, bracing his hands on the bar top. He glanced out the window and saw Nathan getting out of his Bronco and didn't know whether he wanted to laugh or break down. He pushed himself away from the bar and made himself walk over to the door and open it, facing Nathan with a pained and watery smile, hoping that maybe just this once all the shit between them could be put aside – even just long enough for them to share a beer - long enough for Duke to tell someone who knew him, that might understand, that might care, that he had a daughter that he was never going to see again and just what exactly that was doing to him.

And then Nathan turned and walked away.

Duke closed his eyes and shut the door. 

He forced himself to make it through supper with Audrey, make it through closing the Gull before finally making his way home. He climbed onto the Rouge and made his way straight to his bottle of Johnnie and poured himself a glass to celebrate the birth of his daughter, and then proceeded to drink straight from the bottle at how god damn cruel it was to know she was out there and he would never see her, know her, have any help in raising her.

By the time Duke noticed Nathan standing in front of him, he was more than three quarters through the bottle, sitting on the floor and too drunk to notice the tears streaming down his face. 

He squinted up at Nathan and slurred, “What're you doing here?”

“Wanted to see if you were okay,” Nathan answered stiffly.

Duke snorted. “What do you think, Nate?”

Nathan huffed out something under his breath before sitting down on the bench in front of Duke, bracing his elbows on his knees, blue eyes staring at Duke like he was trying to see through him. “Not easy coming that close to dying,” he said carefully, quietly.

Duke narrowed his eyes. “You think I'm wallowing because I had a near death experience?” he asked incredulously, sounding suddenly far more sober. Taking another swig from the bottle he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the bench he was propped against. “I have a kid, Nate. A daughter I'm never going to meet because doing so will kill me. All because of fucking Haven and the god damn Troubles.”

Nathan was quiet for so long Duke lifted his head and looked to make sure he was still there. When their eyes met Nathan said, “I'm sorry, Duke.” Swallowing thickly, Duke nodded and finished off the bottle.

“Would have been nice to have a picture of her, you know?” Duke mumbled as he started listing to the side.

“Audrey took a photo,” Nathan said, getting up quickly to stop Duke from face planting on the floor, though he wasn't quite sure why he was even there. He'd gone to the Gull because he'd needed to wipe the image of Duke, old and grey and dying on the lighthouse steps from his mind. Had thought maybe, for a second, that what happened that day was enough to push passed all the hurt between them, but then Duke opened the door and smiled at him and Nathan just couldn't do it; he walked away. Of course, hours later he still found himself here, despite his better judgement because something in the way Duke had looked at him that afternoon had hit him like a gut punch he could no longer feel.

Duke nodded, eyes closed. “Showed me,” he mumbled, “didn't give me a copy though.” 

Nathan frowned at that, steadying Duke and trying to get him in an upright seated position again before giving up and pulling Duke to his feet. “Come on,” he muttered, dragging Duke toward the bedroom. 

Duke pressed his face to Nathan's neck curling against him as they both stumbled toward the bedroom, making it that much more difficult for Nathan to get Duke to bed before he passed out on the floor. “You smell good,” Duke muttered, and Nathan ignored him. “You always smell good.”

“Get in bed, Duke,” Nathan muttered. “Sleep it off.”

Duke curled up on the bed and Nathan tugged the blankets over him, reaching into his pocket for his phone as he turned to leave. Something stopped him though and he turned to see Duke had curled his fingers around Nathan's wrist and was looking at him through a glaze of Johnnie Walker and something Nathan didn't even want to name. “I have a daughter, Nate,” he whispered, before his face crumpled and suddenly Nathan was watching Duke Crocker sobbing drunkenly into his pillow.

“Jesus,” Nathan murmured, moving to the bed and dragging Duke up and into a hug. Duke clung to him desperately, his face buried against Nathan's neck, arms tightly wrapped around Nathan's back as he continued to cry for the daughter he would never know. Nathan suddenly felt guilty for telling Audrey that Duke wasn't father material. It was clear that he loved his child – a child he'd only seen a picture of, only knew in the abstract, and wouldn't ever get the chance to know as anything other than that, but still he loved her and mourned the loss of her. It was unfair of him to think it would mean any less to Duke than it would have, had it happened to Nathan himself.

Duke went limp in his arms and Nathan settled him back against the pillow, covering him with the blanket again. He brushed the hair from Duke's face, brushed away the tear tracks and sighed. He didn't think he was ready to move past the ton of shit between them, there were so many things that needed forgiving...on both sides if he was being honest; but he had been telling the truth at the lighthouse. Hate was a strong word, and he didn't hate Duke. He didn't think that someone could piss him off the way Duke did if he just hated him. Was pretty sure the complete opposite was true and it scared the hell out of him.

He pushed to his feet, took one last look at Duke and picked up his phone, heading for the deck as he dialed.

_ “Nathan,”_ Parker's chipper voice came through the line. _ “You're up late. We got a case?”_ She sounded far too hopeful. Nathan shook his head.

“Checking on Duke,” he said shortly. “You told him about Jean.”

_“I did, yes,”_ she said. _“I thought he deserved to know.”_ She was edging into defensive and Nathan sighed to himself. This wasn't about Parker.

“Yes, he did,” Nathan agreed. “He also deserved a copy of the picture you showed him,” Nathan pointed out, voice monotone as he climbed into his Bronco and headed home.

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment before Audrey swore. _“Shit. SHIT. I fucked up, didn't I?”_

At least she recognized it. “Not going to lie,” Nathan answered, still remembering Duke's drunken sobs, and finding it hard to swallow suddenly.

_“Oh Jesus, Nathan, I didn't even think. Is Duke okay? I'm sending the picture to him right now.”_ She sounded truly sorry, and Nathan had no doubts that she'd seek Duke out in the morning to make a proper apology. Maybe a part of him didn't want her to – whether it was because he didn't want her around Duke, or didn't want Duke around her, he wasn't quite sure himself and wasn't willing to look too closely at that right now, because in this case, where Jean was concerned, yeah, Audrey did need to make amends with Duke.

“Sure he'll appreciate that when he sobers up,” Nathan said a beat later.

_“Shit,”_ Audrey swore again. _“I didn't think it was going to upset him. Like you said, he isn't really father material and he said himself you can't miss what you didn't have.”_ She was talking fast, sounded like she was pacing and Nathan felt his gut tighten (or imagined he could) at her words.

“I was wrong,” he said simply. “Was unfair to say that. Let my issues with Duke color the situation. Like I said, known him since we were five – should have known this would have bothered him same as it would have me, if I were in his place.”

_“I'll make it up to him tomorrow,”_ she said quietly.

“Yeah,” Nathan answered just as quietly. “Talk to you tomorrow.” He didn't give her the chance to respond, just hung up. 

He should have headed home, but found himself pulling up outside the station. The paperwork for Beatrice or Helena and Duke's daughter Jean was sitting on Parker's desk. Nathan took it to his own and sat down, staring at it for several minutes. He glanced at the clock; far too late now. In the morning though, he'd call, ask them if they wouldn't mind sending periodic photos. The file said they told them Jean's mother died in childbirth and her father was too sick to take care of her. He could spin that, make sure they knew there was no chance Duke would ever try and take Jean – just that he'd like to see pictures of her growing up, maybe videos if they'd be willing. He'd tell them they could send it to him at the station if they were worried Duke would find out who they were, as an added layer of promise that their daughter would not be taken from them. He'd figure it out. 

One picture of a child you could never see, could never hold, would never know, just wasn't enough; not even for someone like Duke. And if the memory of Duke crying over the little girl he'd never know but loved anyway had Nathan quickly writing down the name and number of Jean's adoptive parents on a piece of paper and stuffing it in his jeans before heading out for the night, no one but him needed to know that.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first real thing I've written in about seven or eight years, thanks to a HUGE bought of writer's block brought on through chronic pain and the meds for that messing up my ability to concentrate, so sorry this is so painfully rough. :P Hopefully it won't be another seven years before I can write something else. ;)


End file.
